The Deal
by koojskyver
Summary: When the Illusive Man paid for information on the Collectors and Reapers, he didn't expect to be given an undocumented teenager with her closest family history dating back to early 21st century. Commander Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan, isn't going to let such knowledge go to waste though, even if it requires extensive "persuasive" measures. SI


The first few days of school is critical, even if you have attended it before. It will be the precedent for your character the entire year. If you appear unconventional, you will be mocked; overconfident: unapproachable; kind but firm: respected. It takes observation, practice, and patience to master it, but it is one of the most important skills you will learn, not only for school, but for your job and your social life. This is a skill I am glad to have claim of.

Jeans, snug but flexible; a dark green t-shirt; a simple, long, silver-colored necklace and matching earring; tan, heelless boots and belt; blond, flowing hair held back by a matching tan headband; nothing on my fingers or wrists, nor any makeup. Simplicity is my beauty and honesty my charm.

The alarm buzzes, five minutes till the bus arrives. I zip up my right boot and pull my pants leg over it, standing.

"Hurry up, you're going to miss the bus!"

The same statement every morning, despite me never having missed it before. I'm placing my bag on my shoulder, when my brother collides with me, sending the contents of the bag to the floor to the floor.

He dashes to the location of his shoes, stuffing his feet inside while I pick up my binder and folders. He grabs his gym shoes and heads for the front door.

"Hey, Dean! Aren't you forgetting something?"

He turns with a grin on his face. "What would I be forgetting?"

My supplies now returned to their bag, I followed him out. "Well let's see…

your school supplies?"

Holding up his shoes, "Got'em."

"Don't you think you need a pen and maybe some paper?"

"What would I need them for?"

"What do you think?"

He lets out a huff and a shrug as he stops at the bus stop, me at his side. We wait there for a moment. I pull out my phone, and check the time. If my other siblings don't arrive soon, they'll miss the bus. Dean's phone begins to ring. He glances at the number and answers.

"What?!" He pauses for a moment as the other person speaks.

"Yeah, I guess so. I'll be there in a minute." He ends the call, his face turning a light shade of pink. He turns and begins to walk home.

"She sending you back for your book," I tease.

"Oh, shut up," he replies playfully.

"I'll hold the bus for you!"

"You won't if have to if our delinquents don't show up soon!"

"Don't call them that!"

"What'cha gonna do 'bout it?!"

I let out a sigh, knowing I lost any control over him years ago. I can see our neighbors walking from my left, halfway here and the bus straight ahead, at the beginning of the mile-long road. Not much time left.

I hear a rustle behind me and turn, expecting to see the neighbors' dog, having arrived before them, but instead I see empty woods. I watch for the slightest movement and listen for the smallest sound, searching for the origin. The woods are devoid of life at this moment though; everything quite, as if a predator loomed nearby.

Then a black figure quickly approaches in my perpendicular vision. I try to put up my left hand to block it, a black-gloved hand, but it covers my mouth, blocking any sound from coming out. I go for the pressure point of the hand as I feel a small, sharp pain in my neck. By the time my hand reaches their pressure point, a few milliseconds, I've grown sluggish and weak.

I must have been drugged. But why would anyone drug me? What a silly idea. I just need a little sleep and I'll be fine. I blink.

I blink, my sluggishness gone. My surroundings have changed. I feel as if no time as past, but it would have taken time to move me, so it must have. A single, rectangular light shines above me on a grey, sleek ceiling. A snap on my right causes me to flinch, then my left. A light shines in my eyes. I try to swat it away and sit up, but the biggest response a get is a twitch from my right hand. It feels as if my whole body is numb, my muscles all having gone to sleep. Odd, I've never had all my muscles fall asleep before, I don't see how it possible to do so.

"It will take a while for the effects of the cryosleep to wear off," a familiar-sounding voice says.

It sounds like Dr. Chakwas, but it must be another person that sounds like her actor. Cryosleep. As far as I'm aware, cryosleep is currently impossible to do without killing the person because of being unable to prevent ice crystals from being formed in the blood. Of course, a government could have secretly already solved this problem, with it being leaked to some other groups.

"Is the informant awake yet?" a voice like that of Mark Meer's says.

Odd that I would meet two people in a row that both have voices that sound like those of one franchise. The informant? What information could I possibly have that they would need to kidnap me over?

"Yes, but she is not yet functional," the Dr. Chakwas sound-a-like replied.

"How long?" the Mark Meer sound-a-like asked.

"Hard to determine. The cryochamber she was in predates any of those on record, and I have no way of knowing how long it is programed to take. At the current rate of awakening, I would estimate between two and four hours."

Two to four hours!? I don't stay still that long in bed! This is not going to be pleasant. Of course, it could be better than what they had planned for after the wait. I wonder if they've misidentified me and are going to torture me for information I don't have?

He gazes down at me with the same face of the default Commander Shepard, a cruel look upon it. "Inform me when she's ready."

"Of course, Commander," she replies. A second later the sound of a sealed door opens, then closes, quieter than any I've ever heard.

Silence fills the room. Nothing fills my vision expect the light and its ceiling. I close my eyes, analyzing the information I've gathered to pass the time, eventually drifting often into restless dreams of black figures taking me, leaving my family dead, of interrogations of mistaken identities, and of crude science experiments gone wrong.


End file.
